


A Poet and a Scholar

by pene



Category: Grand Sophy - Georgette Heyer, Venetia - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not every person who has the opportunity to attend an orgy in the company of a notorious rake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Poet and a Scholar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



> Many thanks to Kat for kindness and clarity and to Tinka for bringing her unusual knowledge to ensure I didn't mess with history egregiously

It was generally agreed that it would be nonsensical for Aubrey Lanyon to remain in England while his sister and her husband toured the ancient world on their honeymoon.

“This will be the only chance Aubrey has to see the world outside his ivory tower of books,” said Edward Yardley to Lady Denny in her drawing room. He gave a chuckle. “A touch of the real world will do the boy good, I believe. Though I have read that there are numerous stairs in Greece,” he added. “I am not at all confident that suitable precautions have been taken. It is sad to think that this want of proper care on the part of his sister no longer surprises me. But such it is.”

He smiled wistfully into the middle distance then appeared to rouse himself to pay tribute to Lady Denny’s mild tea. “It is a beverage of which I warmly approve,” Edward said. He quoted, “The cup that cheers but does not inebriate," and laughed appreciatively at his own wit.

Clara Denny, who was seated across from him, was much struck. “He has such fortitude,” she said later to her recently acquired but intimate friend Charlotte Lanyon. “For everyone knows that he truly expected to marry Venetia, and yet, despite his sorrow, he can converse on such little niceties as tea, and so humorously.”

Charlotte nodded amiably and the women turned their attention to the young heir of Underhill who was howling unromantically at Nurse.

*

Lord and Lady Damerel had decided, judiciously, to stop in Greece after a period in Rome and Venice. Aubrey professed himself delighted to join them.

“You should be delighted, whelp,” said Damerel with a murderous look.

Aubrey grinned. “You will find I am no trouble at all,” he said. “I will emphatically not be in your way.”

Aubrey made every attempt to avoid considering what being in the way of Venetia and Jasper would involve. Generally, when Aubrey cared to look, he noted that the couple gave every appearance of happiness. Aubrey felt some satisfaction in this as he had predicted it, and in any case he liked his sister and her husband more than he liked any two other people of his acquaintance.

*

Certainly Aubrey’s presence did not appear to have a dampening effect on any honeymooning activities. Even Aubrey found their amorousness hard to overlook. From time to time he would glance up from an engraving to see Damerel pressing Venetia into an opening between two columns, his mouth voracious against her neck as she let her head fall back in response to the onslaught. On occasion Aubrey would turn to speak with Venetia and witness Damerel’s thumb circling her breast through her dress. Once Aubrey made the error of noting that Venetia’s hand had strayed possessively between Damerel’s powerful thighs.

“I accept that this is appropriate,” Aubrey acknowledged, “Given the subject matter of the friezes in the entablature above us; however there are limits to what a fellow can and should stand.”

Venetia had a laugh in her eyes as she said, “Sorry dearest. It never occurred to me that you might be attending. These engravings are extraordinary. Does that mention a column of horsemen?” She removed her hand from Damerel and gestured to the tablet before them.

“Oh blast it, go and find a bronze to provoke, Aubrey,” said Damerel, replacing her palm against him and pressing himself into her. “I was enjoying myself.”

*

The library in the rented villa at Heraclion was everything Aubrey had hoped. Aubrey examined the shelves hungrily and swiftly determined that the treasures contained therein were well worth returning early from his ride. There was a copy of Orus’ treatise on orthography secreted in an awkward location low to the floor. By the time Aubrey had the book in his hands he was imprisoned between bookshelves on one side and a chaise lounge on the other. He considered clambering onto the chaise but decided the contents of the book made it worth dispensing with some level of comfort. He straightened his bad leg and turned his attention to the treatise. Soon he was enmeshed in allophones and phonemes.

It might have been an hour later, it might have been three, when a rhythmic pounding from behind the bookshelf brought Aubrey’s mind back from ancient scholarship to the present day. He heard Venetia’s shuddering gasp and Jasper’s harsh breathing. The pounding became the strike of wood against the bookshelves and the slap of skin against skin.

Aubrey rolled his eyes heavenwards and struggled to his feet. He had more than enough knowledge to know where this was going and he did not want to be invisible witness to orgasmic rapture, especially that of his sister.

He stepped around the bookshelf toward the door and halted. Venetia was bent forwards over a library table, her dress heaped about her waist and her undergarments pooled around her ankles. Her hands clawed at the table top as her torso pressed into the wood. Damerel stood behind her. He was holding her naked hips, bearing her bottom against him as he pounded into her. His thighs rippled with each motion while she gasped and shuddered beneath him.

Aubrey dropped his gaze and kept his eyes fixed carefully on the floor as he slipped through the heavy door.

“Close. It. Behind. You,” groaned Damerel between thrusts.

*

The return trip to England was largely uneventful despite a heavy storm and the threat of piracy. Damerel's agent had procured a house appropriate for a married couple in London. The entrance hall was commodious and the house included two drawing rooms, a library and a large dining room sufficient for any aspiring young hostess' needs. When Damerel's agent had reported to her in Greece, Venetia had smiled and said that she supposed even confirmed libertines ate at some times of day.

Their arrival in the late afternoon was met with a surprising number of cards and invitations.

“From Lady Stoborough,” said Venetia, handing one to Damerel. “How kind of her.”

“Kind,” Jasper snorted, “Do not let my aunt fool you. She is a redoubtable old dragon.”

“I shall advise her of that in my reply,” said Venetia and they smiled at one another.

She turned to a letter from Aunt Hendred.

"Now that you are Lady Damerel, my dear, whatever concerns there may formerly have been, no one will think it remiss should you wear the sapphire necklace and headpiece. It would be quite unexceptionable. I also wonder if you might wish to lower the neckline of your cerulean silk. No one would remark it in a married lady and it would be quite in the modern fashion. I would not for the world have you appear behind the times. Please, my dear, do not contemplate wearing the coquelicot. Your Uncle sends his fond regards."

“Ah,” said Damerel, “Here is an invitation that will interest you. Lady Zinnia Hartnet is having an evening party. Very selective.”

“An evening party,” repeated Venetia with a twinkle.

“Yes, my dear delight, an evening party.”

“An orgy stoopid,” interrupted Aubrey from his chair.

“Quite,” smiled Venetia. “I had no idea you were minding us, Aubrey.”

“Do you wish to attend?” Damerel asked his wife.

“Yes,” said Aubrey, surprising everyone and speaking over Venetia's affirmative. Aubrey closed his book. “I believe I will consider this my Grand Tour. Given this,” he gestured vaguely to his hip, “I am unlikely to have the opportunity to travel through Europe or to the colonies alone, but I have seen the Ancient World. Now I am obliged to see London and it is not every person who has the opportunity to attend an orgy in the company of a notorious rake. It might be an experience.”

“Agreed, dear one,” said Venetia mildly.

She spoke with Damerel later. “I am concerned Aubrey will attend as a tourist, which might be uncomfortable for him and for other guests.”

“I am more concerned with the excess of clothing you are presently sporting,” said Damerel, tugging his cravat from his careless version of the Waterfall. He flung himself onto a chair to watch Venetia undress and relented, “I don’t think it will harm him, my love. He might enjoy himself. And when have I ever concerned myself with other guests?”

*

Lady Hartnet’s gardens were ablaze with lanterns. The house was more softly lit, full of nooks and alcoves for enterprising lovers. Aubrey resolutely avoided Venetia who was dressed in something laced tight in largely translucent sea blue. She had arrived leading a near-naked Damerel on a chain attached to a studded collar about his neck. Aubrey imagined they were entertaining themselves and presumably others.

He walked through the house, his lean torso exposed to the air. Though he’d covered himself from the waist down in an attempt to conceal his weak hip and leg, he was not sure that his deformity was of any note here. He enjoyed a pleasurable interlude with a titian haired woman in more or less half of a toga, and her agreeable male acolyte. Regrettably when it came to conversation neither had more of import to say than did Aubrey’s horses. However they kindly directed him to the refreshment tables.

*

Several glasses of a reasonable port later, Aubrey opened a gilt door to avoid an onslaught of presumed nymphs and satyrs in ill-advised goat’s fur. The door led to a boudoir replete with hangings in the Ottoman style. One wall accommodated numerous texts, largely untranslated. Aubrey recognised the language as Sanskrit and felt a stirring of interest. He ensconced himself on a chaise lounge in a corner to read. The artistry, men and women in an array of complicated sexual postures, stirred more than his interest.

Some time later the door opened. Aubrey decided invisibility was likely to be his best course, so stayed where he was. He quickly regretted the decision.

“Take me,” said a young woman’s voice. “Take me here, Augustus.” There was a ripping and Aubrey looked over the chaise back to see a woman, full breasts exposed, reclining on the day bed. Her bodice was torn open and her ashen hair spread around her on the bed.

Her paramour, the most beautiful man Aubrey had ever seen, appeared distracted. “But soft,” he said in poetical tones at odds with the level of noise emanating from beyond the door.

“Augustus,” the woman said pleadingly, “Look at me.”

Augustus turned his head, “You are lovely in the moonlight,” he said. “The silvery light entangles with your silvery hair. I feel inspired. I will fling open the curtains. ‘When gazing full she fills the glade’.”

Aubrey was surprised. “You read Sappho,” he interrupted, startling the couple. “When gazing full she fills the glade, and spreads the seas with silvery light.”

“That is it exactly. Though the silver seas are less appropriate for this outlook,” admitted Augustus, gesturing to the London street.

The beautiful man introduced himself as Augustus Fawnhope, a poet. His companion was Miss Edmund. “Please call me Agnes,” she said and laughed when Aubrey's raised eyebrows silently pointed out the disparity between her name and her state of dress. Though her Greek was passable, as conversation turned to archetypes of ancient poetry and the inadequate translations of the 17th century, she left on a hunt for greener pastures, or more likely less green consorts.

Later the two young men bent their heads over the Sanskrit text. They shared a flagon of excellent port Arabel had sourced earlier. Aubrey was aware that his thinking was softened by an unusual combination of drink and a beautiful man making intelligent albeit meandering conversation. He consciously rested a hand on Augustus’ upper thigh.

Augustus' blue eyes met Aubrey's grey ones and the two young men sat in close silence for a time.

“You do recognise that this is an orgy,” Augustus said.

Aubrey raised his eyebrows. “From the Greek,” he said, “Mysteries.”

“'What for my maddened heart I most was longing’,” Augustus said quietly. Aubrey recognised the quote but was distracted by the meaning. When Augustus took Aubrey’s hand and tugged him to his feet, Aubrey made no demur. Augustus peeled Aubrey’s trousers until they caught on his boots. He knelt between Aubrey’s legs.

Aubrey looked down onto Augustus’ fair head and felt all the amazement of his circumstances. "O Delphic Apollo," he breathed. He spoke to himself, but Augustus must have comprehended, because he smiled.

*

Venetia was writing to Lady Denny to congratulate her on Clara Denny's announced betrothal to Edward Yardley. She wrote, "my dear friend, I believe each has made a better match than those they previously hoped to achieve."

“There is someone joining us for dinner,” said Aubrey awkwardly.

Venetia glanced swiftly at her brother, whom she had noticed quoting Keats excessively, but feigned nonchalance. “I shall advise cook,” she said.

“Oh, he is not particularly interested in food.”

“No?” asked Venetia. “Yet I think it might be considered rude even for Lady Damerel not to supply invited guests with dinner.”

“I’m not confident that he would notice,” said Aubrey.

Upon his late arrival, Augustus Fawnhope was first enraptured by a bannister then transported by the sight of Venetia in gold and ivory. “But beauty’s self is sh-“

“I am afraid that is my line,” said Damerel.

“I see how it is. With your stormy appearance you are indeed her perfect foil,” said Augustus, happily unaware of any possibility of offence.

Damerel looked amused as he sat to table. He pushed his chair back and nonchalantly crossed one leg over the other. "Bring wine," he said to the footman. "I believe we will require it."

By the time the quails were eaten, however, Augustus had surprised Damerel with some lucidity and shortly the three men were caught up in talk of Greece. Even had Venetia not understood, she would have been pleased with the conversation for the sake of her husband and brother. Understanding much, she was easily delighted. Aubrey was in his element and Augustus was unusual and intelligent, albeit maddeningly circuitous. He also had the appearance of a Greek god, which Venetia assumed was part of his charm for Aubrey.

“To bed,” said Damerel to his wife as the fires faded. "I have plans for you."

Venetia complied willingly, leaving Aubrey and Augustus to discuss those topics young men discuss in the dining room when the household has retired. Never previously had those subjects been of so little broad appeal and such fervent and scholarly interest. Only rarely had the legs of the young men in question been entangled beneath the table.

More rarely had the young men afterwards fallen into each other's arms.

*

Over his poetic career, Augustus Fawnhope wrote “On Miss Linton amongst the Willows,” and “My Adeline, when she weeps.” He wrote an ode upon the lovely Lady Kellet’s upper lip. He used iambic tetrameter for Jane Brigham’s perfect right foot. Every beauty in polite society was Augustus’ muse. Yet it was almost three years before Augustus wrote a poem on Aubrey Lanyon.

“Fleet of eye, fleet of tongue, fleet of mind,” Aubrey read aloud. He smiled across the room at Augustus. “At least you are not only interested in me for my tongue, Gussie.”

“No,” said Augustus seriously, “For then I’d have positioned it at the end of the triptych where it has the most weight.”

Aubrey laughed gently. He didn’t recite the balance of the poem aloud.

“Here lain betwixt swiftness and sleep  
Have I missed the fall of a thousand dew drops  
Upon a hundred early blue bells.  
Yet, for thee, I cannot regret the loss.”

Aubrey considered the poem dispassionately. “Derivative of Herbert perhaps, but promising.” He smiled as Augustus crossed the room to join him. "It is beautiful," he said.


End file.
